Category: Survivor

My Brother Witnessed The Child Abuse Of Sister * Everybody Hurts*
Child Abuse · Children · Crazy? · Depression · Family · Health and Wellbeing · Mental Illness · Parental Abuse · Sexual Abuse · Suicide · Survivor

My Brother Witnessed The Child Abuse Of Sister * Everybody Hurts*

Looking for the Light15 Comments

Original post 3/2014

Everyone suffers in an abusive environment. Our house was always in chaos. An alcoholic stepfather who abused my mother and a mother who abused her daughter. There were three other children in the house who saw the abuse and heard the screams and threats. I used to think the victim was the only person with scars. At 9 years old I survived almost daily beatings by taking drugs, plenty of alcohol, and trying to kill myself. It never occurred to me my brother suffered from witnessing the abuse. My brother’s scars are from seeing our stepfather beat our mother. Dragging her down the hall beating her head from side to side. Putting a knife to her throat saying he would kill her. Most of their fights ended in front of our bedrooms. We had front-row seats to hell. My mother abused me, and the methods escalated as I aged. I heard stories of abuse as early as six months old. I don’t think my mother was trying to kill me. She’s like the women on the news who allow their kids to die. She didn’t push my head under the water but would have crocodile tears if I drowned accidentally.

One weekend driving back from Houston we passed the exit to my mother’s house. I had strong emotions about my brother, not me. I didn’t understand the emotions. It hit me like a train, my brother was not physically abused yet was still a victim of abuse. He heard his sister scream and cry while his mother threw me to the floor, and hit my head on the countertop or down the hallway walls. He saw my stepfather hit me in the mouth with his fist. He saw my stepfather threaten to kill my mother while holding a knife to her throat. The realization was an eye-opener, I had overwhelming guilt. My brother and I never talked about it. The pain was swept under the rug. I didn’t know how he felt about the violence he saw. Neither of us knew how the violence would manifest itself in our souls. We had no idea how it would affect the decisions we made as adults.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

My brother holds almost all emotions inside, it doesn’t even show on his face. I don’t think he realizes how the violence shaped him as a man. He has a good relationship with my mother yet he lives with the knowledge of what his mother did and allowed. I went to live with my father at 12 years old which meant I only saw my brother a couple of times of year. On my father’s designated holidays we went to my grandparents. We drifted apart from only seeing each other a couple of times a year. After college he moved to Arlington we were both alcoholics by then. Our meetings were at drunken parties at his apartment. We quit calling each other. It took the death of my father to bring us back together. It is the only positive from my father’s death.

I developed a strong relationship with his fiancé. We talked like old girlfriends. She was at my house one-night enjoying wine and chatting. I had no control over my mouth, it spilled out. I asked her if he acknowledged my abuse. She shared how much it affected him, the guilt he carries. A missing piece of the puzzle filled my heart. I thought I was invisible. We are very close, talk or e-mail very often. We live only 30 minutes apart but his travel schedule doesn’t allow much time together. A perfect example, is their Christmas presents are still in the closet. The difference is when we are together it’s like no time has passed.

It has been very touching to get e-mails from him as I deal with my health issues. His tone is of true concern. There was a time when I didn’t think this day would come. I’m so happy. I love my brother. I love him enough to attend his wedding even though I would have to see my mother. I did not want to look back knowing I missed his wedding. I realized another level of love and what you will do for love.

XO  Warrior

Anxiety · Celebrate Life · Communication · Depression · Education · Health and Wellbeing · Healthy Living · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Suicide · Survivor

Silencing the Noise: A Guide to Conquering Overthinking By Guest Blogger My Mind Strenght

Looking for the Light6 Comments
Silencing the Noise: A Guide to Conquering Overthinking.     
This post is on point! It’s natural to overthink occasionally due to a situation but if overthinking is constant it’s time to take control of its debilitating nature. You have to do the hard work and one that takes time and commitment but you can do it. 
 
Be sure to read the posts, everyone can benefit, and if you’re a parent, take an honest look at your children as they may need help. 
 
Melinda
The Messy, Complicated Truth About Grief
Caregiver · Celebrate Life · Communication · Depression · Family · Health and Wellbeing · Healthy Living · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Moving Forward · Survivor

The Messy, Complicated Truth About Grief

Looking for the Light4 Comments

IDEAS TED TALKS

May 1, 2019 / Nora McInerny

Mourning the loss of a loved one isn’t efficient, compact or logical, and it changes us forever, says writer Nora McInerny. She explains why.

I quit my job shortly after my husband Aaron died in 2014 following three years with brain cancer. It made sense in the moment, but I needed money to keep my son and myself alive so I went to a networking event to hopefully make connections. I was introduced to a successful woman in her early 70s who everyone referred to as a “legend.” She wanted to meet me for coffee and I thought, “What could she possibly see in me?”

What she saw in me was herself. She had been 16 when her boyfriend died. He was her first love and they were teenagers in a different era, when it was perfectly plausible that you would be married after high school. Instead, he went to the hospital one day and never came back. She learned later that he’d died of cancer, which his parents had kept secret from him and from his friends. They didn’t know how to talk about it, and they didn’t want him or his friends to worry.

This boy had died decades ago. She was married, a mother and a grandmother. And she told me about his death as if it had happened weeks ago, as if she were still 16, still shocked and confused that her beloved was gone and she’d not had a chance to say goodbye. Her grief felt fresher than mine did, because I didn’t feel anything yet.

The only guarantee about grief is that however you feel right now, you will not always feel this way.

Time is irrelevant to grief. I cannot tell you that it will feel better or worse as time goes by; I can just tell you that it feels better and worse as time goes by. The only guarantee is that however you feel right now, you will not always feel this way.

There are days when Aaron’s death feels so fresh that I cannot believe it. How can he be gone? How can it be that he will forever be 35 years old? Likewise, there are days when his death feels like such a fact of my life I can hardly believe that he was ever not dead. I thought I would be able to control the faucets of my emotions — that certain days (his birthday, his deathiversary) would be drenched in meaning, and most days would not.

I wish that were the case; I wish we could relegate all our heaviest grieving to specific days of the year. It would certainly be more efficient. Instead, I know that I have some friends who will understand perfectly when I call them to say that the entire world feels heavy, that I’ve been crying for reasons I can’t quite explain other than that I am alive and Aaron is not, and the reality of that happened to hit me in the deodorant aisle, when I spotted Aaron’s favorite antiperspirant. I bought a stick for myself, so that my armpits and his armpits would be forever connected.

In 2017, Lady Gaga released her Joanne album, named for an aunt who died before she was even born. The titular song is 100 percent guaranteed to make you cry, and it’s written about someone Lady Gaga never even met. In her Netflix documentary, Gaga: Five Foot Two, she plays the song for her grandmother and bawls uncontrollably. Her grandmother listens to the song, watches Gaga weep, and thanks her for the song. She does not shed a tear. Their grief — even for the same person — is different. The roots of grief are boundless. They can reach back through generations. They are undeterred by time, space or any other law you try to apply to them.

The woman I met had lived far more of her life without that boyfriend than with him. Time had not healed that wound, and it never will.

A common adage is “time heals all wounds.” It is true physically, which I am grateful for because I am typing this while hoping the tip of my thumb fuses back together after an unfortunate kitchen accident involving me attempting to cook a potato. But it is not true mentally or emotionally. Time is cruel. Time reminds me of how long Aaron has been gone, which isn’t a comfort to me.

The woman I met for coffee had lived far more of her life without that boyfriend than she had with him. Her grandchildren were now the same age she’d been when she lost him. Time had not healed that wound, and it never will. If you’re still sad, that’s because it’s still real. They are still real. Time can change you, and it will. But it can’t change them, and it won’t.

And here’s some advice for the grief adjacent. For you, time marches on, steadily and reliably. A year is just a year. A day is just a day. You are not aware of the number of days it’s been since they took their last breath or said their last word. You’re not mentally calculating when the scales of time tip, and more of your life has been lived without them than was lived with them.

We do not move on from the dead people we love or the difficult situations we’ve lived through. We move forward, but we carry it all with us.

You may be tempted to tell the grieving to move on. After all, it’s been weeks. Years. Decades. Surely this cannot still be the topic of conversation. Surely, at this point, they must have moved on? Nope.

But, you may be thinking, “This person has gotten married again or had another baby! They have so many good things in their life, this one awful thing can’t possibly still be relevant … can it?”

We do not move on from the dead people we love or the difficult situations we’ve lived through. We move forward, but we carry it all with us. Some of it gets easier to bear, some of it will always feel Sisyphean. We live on, but we are not the same as we once were. This is not macabre or depressing or abnormal. We are shaped by the people we love, and we are shaped by their loss.

“Why are they still sad?” you may think. Because this is a sad thing, and always will be.

Excerpted from the new book The Hot Young Widows Club: Lessons on Survival from the Front Lines of Grief by Nora McInerny. Reprinted with permission from TED Books/Simon & Schuster. © 2019 Nora McInerny.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nora McInerny has a lot of jobs. She is the reluctant cofounder of the Hot Young Widows Club (a program of her nonprofit, Still Kickin), the bestselling author of the memoirs “It’s Okay To Laugh”, “Crying Is Cool Too”, and “No Happy Endings” and the host of the award-winning podcast “Terrible, Thanks for Asking.” McInerny is a master storyteller known for her dedication to bringing heart and levity to the difficult and uncomfortable conversations most of us try to avoid, and also for being very tall. 

 Melinda

Child Abuse Awareness Month-Let’s Get Real!
Advocacy · Bullying · Child Abuse · Crazy? · Family · Mental Health · Moving Forward · Parental Abuse · Sexual Abuse · Survivor

Child Abuse Awareness Month-Let’s Get Real!

Looking for the Light5 Comments

We all hear the statistics, the horrific stories, and the number of innocent deaths. I thought I would take a different approach to Child Abuse Awareness.

The world children/teens live in today is crazy, addictive, and controlled by Social Media/friends. Preparing your child/teen for this world has to start early and can be done in a natural more conversational way.

All those “conversations” you would like to avoid can be easily taught through their activities. Kids are fighting and saying bad things to each other on TV, take a minute to mute the show and reinforce that behavior is not acceptable and we don’t act like that. Quick conversations, not ones that get them bored and waiting to watch the show. Those little conversations will build up in the kid’s mind.

While your teen watches the news or a TV program with you, look for opportunities to ease into a learning experience. If the story is about sexual assault and they are of the age to understand, open a conversation with some low-key questions but don’t bombard them, maybe 1-2 questions. Pick the right time to ask more, and keep it as a normal conversation and not an inquisition. There are so many questions to ask but you have to approach it naturally unless more is needed.

The one key to teaching children is that if you are smoking or drinking, and living in a violent home life Please don’t tell them not to do the same. You’ve already set an example.

I feel for all parents who are dealing with this crazy world of Social Media. Form a small group of mothers to discuss safety and security with, you can learn from each other.

Melinda

 

18 Years Old, Married, Divorced and Still Resentful 32 Years Later
Anxiety · Children · Communication · Crazy? · Family · Friends · Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Moving Forward · Survivor · Therapy

18 Years Old, Married, Divorced and Still Resentful 32 Years Later

Looking for the Light21 Comments

Original post 7/2014

In life, there are times when memories seem like yesterday and others a lifetime ago. This is a lifetime ago memory buried in deep resentment and anger. It’s an oxymoron. I’ve had difficult challenges, growing up, and staying alive was a challenge. I’m at peace in life now. I worked through the bitterness of abuse but forgot this memory I buried so deeply that I forgot about it until yesterday.

I was married in August of 1981, I was 18 years old.

We played house until it got rough, and the decision to get a divorce came on the way to his parents for Thanksgiving. We didn’t separate, just kept skating on thin ice. Spring rolls around and race season starts. Where the money came from to pay for the races was a mystery to me and there wasn’t even prize money!

One of my dearest friends died around the same time, an elderly man who was having a heart attack hit him at a high rate of speed. Steve and I dated and remained close friends after breaking up. He was a special person, the type who brings sparkle to your life. For reasons I’ll never understand his mother called and asked me to come over to talk about Steve. I spent weeks consoling her and internalizing my grief.

The stress was more than my body could handle. I had a miscarriage two weeks later. It was a Friday night, I had no idea I was pregnant nor did I know what a miscarriage was. I’m in excruciating pain, still not processing why there was so much blood. We arrive at the hospital and since it’s Friday, several shooting victims are ahead of me. I lay across several chairs, bleeding and crying. Finally in a room but still waiting, I go to the bathroom.

I lost the baby in the toilet at the hospital and a part of me died that night, it’s a place inside I have never been before or since. Staring at the fetus, it was developed since I was 4 months along, it looked like a miniature baby. Even now it brings up feelings I don’t understand. I walked out of the bathroom, dead inside and when a nurse walked by, I said there was a baby in the toilet and kept walking.

The nurse then brings the fetus into the room in a jar and puts it by my head. Can I hand you a knife so you can stab me? I stayed overnight, and my husband went home. He never acknowledged the baby, in fact, he didn’t say anything. He was scheduled to leave for a race the next morning, and I knew he was not canceling his plans. I had to call someone the next morning to come get me.

Looking back it was a blessing. I was not ready for single motherhood and the cycle of abuse could have repeated itself. I know this in my heart. I don’t understand the resentment. I’m 50 yrs. old, and 18 was a long time ago. I’ve moved on from worse pain physically and mentally.

The only logic I can find is the baby came out of my body, I saw it clearly because no blood came out. The resentment is he never acknowledged the baby, my pain and loss, held me, let me cry, told me it was ok, or canceled the race.

I’ve never talked about this experience, it was truly locked away. I have to work through the feelings of resentment. That’s not who I am today.

Warrior

Today, Sunday, April 2024, I cried and went to a painful place reading this.

 

 

 

You’re Stupid She Said
Anxiety · Celebrate Life · Child Abuse · Crazy? · Depression · Domestic Violence · Family · Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Moving Forward · Parental Abuse · PTSD · Survivor

You’re Stupid She Said

Looking for the Light22 Comments

Originally posted in 2022

You’re stupid, that’s what my mother always said to me growing up. Stupid, like an idiot, like a person that can’t do anything? Is that what you mean? I would think to myself. This was not a rare occurrence but daily. She wanted me to believe it and it pissed her off that I would not give in. 

One morning I walked into our kitchen and she yelled at me “You stupid slut!” She didn’t like the jeans I had on. So she proceeds to berate me and walk toward me. I’m 12 years old and have not hit her back until this day. 

She comes over and grabs my hair and starts yelling and yelling while hitting me and pushing me. I snapped and hit her right in the head. Like lightning out of nowhere, in comes my step-father who is 6’2″ and 220 and he hits me right in the mouth. Busting up my entire mouth since I had braces, and blood all over my face. 

Think about it, a grown man hitting a 90-pound 12-year-old girl with a mouth full of braces. I’m not sure I said a word the whole time, just let it play out like the other times only today was the first time he hit me. 

I walked to my room and by lunch, I was black and blue. Of course, I couldn’t go to school because the teachers would see the damage, and our storybook life would end. My step-father came home from work with a hamburger for lunch and I couldn’t eat. What the hell was he thinking!  

 

 

I was able to go to school three days later and still had visible marks around my mouth. I acted like nothing was wrong until my music teacher called me into the hall and asked what happened to my mouth. I said the door hit me, and she was insistent that I go see the School Counselor. I told her that I would not go talk to anyone and she stood me down in that hallway until I went to the counselor’s office. 

Walking through the counselor’s door, I said I had to call my Granny first. I had never told them my mother was abusing me. So I wanted her to know that I was in trouble. She would know what that meant for me. More beatings. She had her suspicions but never could pin down anything concrete

The next day Child Protective Services showed up at school and I got called out of class for extensive questioning. Now it was going to get very ugly and I would be on the losing end.  

I told them everything that happened and that hitting me was commonplace. I answered their questions as they filled out the forms and that was it. Until one day after school, two women showed up at our house. Now it’s really going to get ugly. 

They come in and my mother is so calm and cool. She asked them why they were there and what the problem was. My life took a dive for the worst and I thought it couldn’t get any worse. My mother proceeded to tell them that I was mentally unstable and that she was in the process of having me committed to the State Mental Hospital. They leave completely satisfied while I wait in my room. She had lied to them right out the door. 

After my step-father hit me what could she do to make it hurt worse? Kill me? She knocked me around the room and set off a chain of events. Not long after that fateful day, I got permission to live with my dad who was 50 miles away. I packed up a few belongings, told my brother goodbye, and off in silence I went.  

I bought this Warhol years ago, it hangs in my office and it’s a positive reinforcement. 

Melinda

Abuse · Anxiety · Children · Depression · Domestic Violence · Health and Wellbeing · Mental Health · Suicide · Survivor · Therapy

How Does Domestic Violence Turn To Murder/Suicide?

Looking for the Light30 Comments

 

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Last week a murder-suicide happened in the neighborhood, the house behind us. I was very ill and on pain meds, my husband shielded me from conversations with the Police and the family. I felt the pain of my father’s suicide but quickly focused on the kids in our house.  

The father had been released from jail for domestic violence, but he first stopped to buy a gun, then went home, killing his wife and himself in front of the kids.

My husband came upstairs saying two kids were downstairs, they thought the father killed their mother. I went down to get water and speak to the kids, nothing heavy, a half hug. The kids were 8,10,17 years old. My heart was breaking for them and their future pain. I offered some snacks and went back upstairs. By now there are 4 to 6 Police in the house. One said the  17-year-old ran out of the house when he heard the shot, and police were surrounding the house. The police knocked on the family’s door and he shot himself as they entered the house.

Both parents are dead. How do tell three kids their parents are dead. Your father killed your mother and then himself. Several officers were fighting back tears. I lost my breath thinking of the kid’s future. The girl called family members,  they were on the way to our house.

Once the family arrived, a few facts came out. The parents had been separated for some time. He was in jail for Domestic Violence. His mother bailed him out and he went straight home. She was helping a son she loved, chances are violence never crossed her mind.

The Police took the kids and family to Advocacy Center. The center can start therapy and offer help from trained professionals.

After 11:00 a.m. two guys looking professional were talking to a neighbor. I went over to see if I could help. I didn’t know they were reporters. I shared how little I know. They wanted to do an interview, right or wrong I did. I could only say over and over, that my heart breaks for the three kids, they don’t understand, they’re in shock and they have no parents.

I ask God to carry the three kids in your hand, help them through the shock, and cradle them when they need you most. The traumatized kids will need help coping with the unbearable pain and need help working through trauma which can take years.

Xx  M

Repost from 2016.

Good Times On Highway To Hell *Part 2
Bullying · Children · Domestic Violence · Family · Moving Forward · Parental Abuse · Survivor

Good Times On Highway To Hell *Part 2

Looking for the LightLeave a comment

Originally posted 2015

Childhood antics landed my brother and me in trouble. 

I have to start with my favorite story,  you’ll get a better idea of who I am. At recess in third grade, I told the teacher I HAD to go to the bathroom. No, go back and play. Back to the teacher a few minutes later, I HAVE TO GO! You’re just saying that go play. A couple of minutes later I begged the teacher to let me go, NO. I said okay and popped my pants right in front of her. That ended the life of my purple elephant bell bottom suit.

Gramps stopped to pick up bread and left us in the car, I may have been seven. The car was a standard on the column,  I was playing like Gramps driving and somehow got the car in neutral. We were rolling out onto a major street. I hopped out trying to get the car to stop, luckly a man stopped to help about the time Gramps rounded the corner. He was in shock,  we didn’t get a switch.

My youngest brother was playing on the sidewalk in front of a girl’s house. They were laughing loudly and screaming. The family owned a Saint Bernard which was protective of the girl. The dog jumped the fence, grabbed my brother by the back slinging him side to side. My older brother grabbed a two-by-four, hitting the dog many times, it would not let go until it turned to bite his arm.

When we got a new puppy, the kids were so in love. So much in love, all four kids woke up in the night a fed the dog a piece of bologna.

My girlfriend’s yard had a slope where we would lie down and throw apples at cars until a man got out and threatened us.

My stepfather really loved boating,  the problem was he knew nothing about boats. Our speed boat couldn’t pull up a skier, and the houseboat was so huge he had to call a tow truck to get out of the lake.

There was a drainage ditch down from our house that crawfish swam in. If we caught enough it was a skillet full of fried crawfish snacks. I hate to think of what was in the water.

M

Survivor & So Much More *First Posted 4/21/2014*
Child Abuse · Mental Illness · Moving Forward · Parental Abuse · Sexual Abuse · Suicide · Survivor

Survivor & So Much More *First Posted 4/21/2014*

Looking for the Light10 Comments

I am alive, happy, productive and helping other Survivors. Very Blessed. My childhood and teenage years where so difficult I truly believed suicide was the only answer. My first attempt was at 9 years old, I took all  the pills in my dad’s medicine cabinet. I got a buzz then my stomach pumped. Suicide was always on my mind since the abuse was everyday. If  it wasn’t physical abuse, it was constant mental abuse by my mother. At the same time I saw my mother physically and emotionally abused by my alcoholic stepfather.

At 13 years old I left my abusive life behind. It sounds great but you are so wounded you don’t want to look anyone in the eye, they may hit you or call you names. My mind stripped down and filled with trash, my mother took every drop of confidence I had. Over time my confidence grew and I started building who I am today. I did get called names and had a couple good fights . Sounds like any teenager trying spread their wings.

I have many unresolved emotions, responses and fears. Who doesn’t? What I can say for sure, I’m a survivor and so much more. Survivors have to dig really deep after being kicked down. It took years for me to discover what I liked and longer to get over my fear of failure.

My mother told me I was stupid all the time. I know better when I look at the books I’ve read. I do research on the internet and find internal medical presentations. Last week was a 155-page presentation by the FDA on ECT to the medical community. I didn’t just find it, I understood entirely and told my husband about it. I’m not stupid.

I love art, music, photography, interior design, ancient history and archeology.  At the height of my career, I earned over 300K a year, #1 in the sales force.  I can grow beautiful roses, and collect antique cameras. I love travel and went to Russia by myself. I’m not stupid.

I’ve had over 20 ECT Treatments while battling the Black Dog, married three times, and started drinking at 9  years old.  I’ve made plenty of mistakes while building the person I am today at 50 years old. I’m a survivor and so much more.

I am not stupid!

Warrior

(Repost) Nine Year Old Living In Hell
Alcohol · Caregiver · Child Abuse · Mental Illness · Moving Forward · Suicide · Survivor

(Repost) Nine Year Old Living In Hell

Looking for the Light13 Comments

Original post 4/2014

My brother and I called our stepfather a Nazi because he was mostly German and he would beat our mother unmercifully. Her crimes as we knew were not having dinner ready or not warm enough. The kids were too loud, noise was not allowed in the house, and he was an alcoholic with major control issues. I was 9 years old, my brother six & half years old, and our two step-brothers were much younger. They came to live with us after Houston Social Services found my stepfather the better parent. Of the choices, he was.

Their mother was a drug addict. He never saw the boys after the divorce. By the time they were in the court system, they had been left at home for up to two weeks with no food, nothing. The youngest in the same diaper. The youngest experienced trauma so severely that he regressed to a baby. Her addiction took over her life for that matter she may have forgotten she had kids until she came down enough.

I hated my stepfather from the beginning, he didn’t wait to start controlling everything. He rarely talked to my mother it was always yelling. It was very complicated for me. I hated my mother for abusing me but it still hurt when he beat her. We had a long hallway that passed our bedrooms. When he was out of control he would walk my mother down the hall hitting her head and body from side to side down the hallway. The hallway ended in front of my bedroom, it was hell on earth.

One night my life changed for the worse. She was screaming, pleading to stop, you could hear her head banging on the walls. He kept saying he was going to kill her. It wasn’t the first time he had threatened but something in her voice was different. They stopped in front of my bedroom. I was so scared, I cracked the door and he had a knife to her throat a little blood falling down her neck. I knew he was going to kill her, I couldn’t sit there and listen. Then what would he do after that? I’m 9 years old, more mature for my age but a child. I struggled with guilt for leaving her to die but I could not hear her cry anymore. I took the nine dollars I had saved and ran away. I thought my mother was going to die, but I didn’t think about the consequences. He’s yelling with a knife to her throat, she thought she was going to die by the look on her face.

I rode my bike a couple of miles to my boyfriend’s house. His parents were so normal. They offered me something to drink and eat, put a blanket around me, and let me tell the story. They said I could stay for a while to let things cool down at home but they would have to call my mother. I didn’t think my life could get worse, wrong. At 9 years old it spiralled straight to hell that night.

My mother drove up, I knew the beating would start the minute I got in the car. We turned the corner and she started laying into me barely staying on the road. When we arrived home, I’d reached the point of not feeling the pain. I believe if nothing else happened to me, this night alone would have fuck me up bad.

I think about what another mother would have done. Hugged their child right away, acknowledged how confusing and painful it must have been, and explained it was not the child’s fault. I never had normal. I tried to kill myself every chance possible from that day forward. I cut my wrist deep at school, God wouldn’t let me go. I endured much worse until I left home.

I prayed for God to let me go. I had no more fight in me. God had more lessons for me to learn. Looking back I’m so thankful. I would not have been able to create a close-to-normal life. More importantly, I wouldn’t have been able to hold my grandmother’s hand as she died. I cared for my grandfather as he was dying.

The only time I’ve cried is thinking about my grandparents. They were the only two people who loved me unconditionally. God built my strength, I could be there for them and the person I am today.

All of the above is collateral damage, I packed away. I see a Therapist where I can talk about the past. We focus on my fears as an adult. If you’re a Survivor of abuse, I hold out my hand and give you a hug.

Warrior

How Would You Feel If….?
Advocacy · Anxiety · Bipolar Disorder · Business · Chronic Illness · Communication · Crazy? · Health and Wellbeing · Medical · Men & Womens Health · Survivor

How Would You Feel If….?

Looking for the Light16 Comments

I left the hospital 6 weeks ago and still have an issue with my stay. I will file a claim with the Texas Medical Board on the doctor who told me my eGFR was 20 which would mean, I’m not far from death. He said I may not make it out of the hospital. The lab and doctor made a rookie mistake by not testing again since it was so low. I was in complete shock and started calling my brother. I was crying so hard he could not understand what I was saying and had to call my husband to find out what was happening.

How would you feel?

If a doctor told you something devastating  like you’re dying in a few days?

If the hospital loses your medication list and you don’t get your meds for three days? I went into withdrawal due to not having medication?

If the janitor came in with only a screwdriver, rammed it around, then rinsed it off in your sink?

The list is long so I’ll stop here. Please think about how you would react if faced with these challenges.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts and thanks for reading.

Melinda

Post From 2014-About Looking For The Light Blog
Alcohol · Bipolar Disorder · Child Abuse · Domestic Violence · Men & Womens Health · Mental Illness · Parental Abuse · Sexual Abuse · Suicide · Survivor · Therapy

Post From 2014-About Looking For The Light Blog

Looking for the Light9 Comments

My mother, stepfather, and father abused me until I was a teenager. All the scars hurt particularly of my father who sexually abused me. It’s hard to wrap your head around sexual abuse. My father committed suicide in 1992. It was an extremely difficult time, my grandmother never recovered he was her only child. In my father’s suicide note, he wanted me to take care of all the details. Estranged for years but the heart still breaks. Because of how he killed himself, we had to have a closed-casket funeral. It’s very hard to reconcile death when you can’t see them. I gave the eulogy however I don’t remember.

I struggle with Treatment-Resistant Bipolar Disorder and the anxiety it brings. I was diagnosed at 19 years old struggling for years without medication or over medicated. In 2005 I had the Vagus Nerve Stimulator implanted. The device sends electrical signals to the brain to increase Serotonin. I have taken over 40 prescriptions or protocals. Some worked for a while then you have to try another mix. I thought the VNS device would keep me on the rails. Naïve thinking on my part. I was not as lucky as many in the FDA clinical trial. I realized the device was like any other prescription and it was another that didn’t work.

I’m 50 years old, and the Black Dog drags me down deeper as I age. I’m alive with the help of God, my Husband, my Therapist, and my Psychiatrist. I’m blessed with a husband that won’t give up. It takes a village.

I hope we can build a resource for all including the ones who love us. Please leave your thoughts in the comment section. Your thoughts help make me a better person and blogger.

Warrior

Trending Topics In 2023
Celebrate Life · Family · Friends · Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Moving Forward · Religion · Survivor

Trending Topics In 2023

Looking for the LightLeave a comment

Topics

Mental Health and Psychology

Disease Prevention and Management

 Top Modern Books of All Time

10 Books to Read Before You Die

Famous novels

Best Books to Read in 2023

New York Times Top Books

 DIY Projects

Parenting and Family Life

Pet Care and Training

 Climate Change and Global Warming

Renewable Energy

Green Living and Sustainability

Conservation and Wildlife

Waste Reduction and Recycling

Social Issues and Justice

Human Rights and Civil Liberties

How to Build Self-Confidence

How to Overcome Self-Doubt. 

How to Self-Actualize

How to Build Good Habits

How to Stay Motivated

How to Find Purpose in Life

How to Acquire Skills for Success

Melinda

References:

Maria Ashraf·

How Do You Heal From Trauma?
Advocacy · Celebrate Life · Child Abuse · Chronic Illness · Domestic Violence · Essential Oils · Family · Health and Wellbeing · Healthy Living · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Moving Forward · Parental Abuse · Survivor

How Do You Heal From Trauma?

Looking for the Light8 Comments

I had a conversation with my Therapist about healing from trauma recently. I asked her, if a traumatic memory is triggered and there is no emotion or pain associated with it does that mean it’s not traumatic anymore. She explained that the memory is still traumatic until I attach a memory to it.

Everyone has trauma in their life. It could be the death of a loved one, a horrific car accident, losing your job, or any other trauma you can think of including chronic illnesses. Many people push the trauma down and go about their business. When I was younger most of my worst traumas were in a box. It’s a survival method and not the recommended way to heal!

I started seeing my Therapist 30 years ago, and we’ve slowly talked through most of my trauma. Healing is a slow process but a necessary one. I’m sharing my slimmed-down description of the process. Healing also includes self-care, lots of self-care, and giving yourself grace. 

Healing Process

The first step is acknowledging the trauma. 

You need to talk to a Therapist about the trauma in great detail. This can be difficult which means you may talk about one trauma for a month or more.

Once you’ve talked through the trauma it’s easy to think you’re healed. Not so.

The final step to healing is taking each trauma and adding emotion to it. This is a tough part. You have to mentally go back to the trauma and feel the emotion felt at the time and process it.

 

 

She reminded me that I had to relive the trauma and feel the emotion. I didn’t have to think about it, I’m not going back. Why? My daily life is not affected, the memories rarely come up, if at all, and I can deal with that. In the future, if a memory hits hard and stays with me, I will take the next step.

We all deserve to live our best life and you have to make your own decisions. You’re in charge, if you are not ready to talk, don’t talk. Please know that all traumatic memories stay with you until you process them. Once you are ready to talk, go at your own speed, healing is no marathon.

To achieve healing of any type, you have to feel positive toward your Therapist in order to build trust in them. It may take seeing several before meeting a person you click with. Once you trust them, stay with them.

My version of healing from trauma may sound easy but I assure you it’s not. My mother left me in the bathtub at six months old and went downstairs to talk with my Granny before being asked where I was. The trauma builds from there and I survived with the help of my Grandparents and my Therapist.

Even if you’re not ready to deal with the tough stuff, there are many benefits to having a Therapist to talk to. My Therapist has helped me deal with so much more than trauma. 

Melinda

Repost From 2015-Guilt is the Shadow in the Mirror
Bipolar Disorder · Child Abuse · Family · Men & Womens Health · Mental Illness · Parental Abuse · Rape · Suicide · Survivor

Repost From 2015-Guilt is the Shadow in the Mirror

Looking for the Light22 Comments

All Gramps said is your daddy has done away with himself. I screamed then said I’m on the way. Calling right back to ask were they sure he’s dead? Yes. I think years of abuse left a permanent hole in my heart. I go there to do actions requiring no emotions. It’s like autopilot, it has served me well. I started to think about work, and who I needed to call. I’m driving with emergency lights on going at 100 mph calling my work team. I stayed on autopilot until I pulled up to my grandparents.

Estranged since I was a teen, I thought it odd when he started calling. He sounded delusional and extremely paranoid. Nothing made sense, he was not talking in sentences. I pieced together he didn’t have any money and couldn’t work. Why he could not work must have come from the madness.

I would do anything to avoid my granny being hurt. I paid his bills. Over the next several months the phone calls were my hell on earth. He would threaten to kill himself then go off on what didn’t sound like words. I couldn’t make out anything he was saying as he yelled on the phone. I would keep trying to redirect him back to our conversation. I did not tell anyone what Daddy said. He was mentally ill. It had been years since we talked, maybe this was his norm. I didn’t know.

Everyone was sitting on the floor when I entered the door. The first words out of my mouth were “he told me”. I felt overwhelming guilt, I let my family down. I knew it wasn’t logical but emotions rarely are. My mind scrambled, my father sexually abused me and I’m feeling guilty. I forgave my father, cut him out of my life, paid bills, and felt guilty.

My grandparents and I went to Daddy’s the next morning. The disarray would alert anyone that something was wrong. On his coffee table, his lockbox was open with every card I had given him, every school photo. The divorce paperwork to my mother laid on the table, his Bible open to Job. You could see tear stains on the pages. The house had papers scattered everywhere, dishes piled up, and everything thrown around. My father had reached the bottom long ago and no one knew.

I found a shoebox full of cassette tapes from recorded phone conversations. It took seven months to listen to every tape. I would have a couple of drinks, listen and cry. Like a tornado in my head, being in the house my sexual abuse took place, Daddy putting 357 mags to my head, being a drug addict, and my boyfriend and I planning how to kill my father. These are the times the hole in my heart is useful. Granny didn’t know about the abuse and went to her grave not knowing. To help my granny cope, I would not cry or show emotion around her. I wanted to piece her heart back together. Holding emotions inside extended my grieving process a long seven years.

A couple of weeks later the morgue called asking me to pick up the gun. I rang the side doorbell, and someone brought the original suicide note, autopsy report, and gun with dried blood. My mind could not prepare for reading the autopsy report. Every detail of how he shot himself. The trajectory of the bullet, lobes damaged, bones crushed, and exit wounds.

I believe my father died so I could live. Learning about his mental illness pointed me to my own. Through Ancestry, I connected with Daddy’s half-brother and several family members. There were over ten suicides in only three generations and many now with severe mental illness.

Daddy

1940-1992 

Melinda

Do You Know A Person With Bipolar Disorder? This Is My Personal Experience
Bipolar Disorder · Celebrate Life · Family · Friends · Men & Womens Health · Mental Illness · Survivor

Do You Know A Person With Bipolar Disorder? This Is My Personal Experience

Looking for the Light18 Comments

If you care for someone with Bipolar Disorder, know the basics about the illness, and side effects. You’ll learn as you go. It’s important that you don’t keep asking how they’re doing, that will stress them out. You will have to up your game to catch the nuances of body language and conversations. 

I describe the basics of Bipolar Disorder as like a teeter-totter. When you get on a teeter-totter and both people are at the same height it’s balanced. As you go up and down you are no longer balanced. When you notice a different behavior and become concerned, that’s the time to keep an eye on them.  

Someone with Bipolar Disorder can have many challenges, and their mood could change at any moment. If the teeter-totter goes up and down all day, think about the stress in their life. 

Different types of Bipolar Disorder.

There are three types of bipolar disorder. All three types involve clear changes in mood, energy, and activity levels. These moods range from periods of extremely “up,” elated, irritable, or energized behavior (known as manic episodes) to very “down,” sad, indifferent, or hopeless periods (known as depressive episodes). Less severe manic periods are known as hypomanic episodes.

Bipolar I disorder is defined by manic episodes that last for at least 7 days (nearly every day for most of the day) or by manic symptoms that are so severe that the person needs immediate medical care. Usually, depressive episodes occur as well, typically lasting at least 2 weeks. Episodes of depression with mixed features (having depressive symptoms and manic symptoms at the same time) are also possible. Experiencing four or more episodes of mania or depression within 1 year is called “rapid cycling.”

Bipolar II disorder is defined by a pattern of depressive episodes and hypomanic episodes. The hypomanic episodes are less severe than the manic episodes in bipolar I disorder.

Cyclothymic disorder (also called cyclothymia) is defined by recurring hypomanic and depressive symptoms that are not intense enough or do not last long enough to qualify as hypomanic or depressive episodes.

Until the doctor gets the medication balanced, you might have to take a medication for a month or longer to see if it works, if not the doctor tries another. Changes in medication will continue until the Psychiatrist finds the right mix of medication. I went through many drugs in the beginning because I’m treatment-resistant which means many medications do not work on me. It’s important to note that over time medication can stop working and the Psychiatrist has to find another medication. I’m currently taking a cocktail of 6 different medications.

In the 32 years since I was diagnosed, I’ve experienced, rapid cycling, mixed features, hypomanic, and depression. The most difficult for me to manage is rapid cycling. One minute you feel great and 15 minutes later depressed. This is a very unstable time. Make sure you let your Psychiatrist know about your rapid cycling.

If possible find a Psychopharmacologist over a Psychiatrist if you can find one. The difference is a Psychopharmacologist spends extra years of education focusing on how medication and the brain work. It can be difficult to find one.

All Psychiatrist have their way of doing things and they have different personalities and specialties. Make sure you ask what types of patients they support. Personally, I want someone who is more experienced versus a newbie. 

Note

I thought my doctor didn’t like me for a long time. Over time I learned how to talk to him and now he’s like family. You don’t have to like your doctor if they listen and share details about the drugs, and answers to your questions, and you trust them, keep them as your doctor.

Personal Experience

The backstory starts with the DEA which is limiting the amount of medication each pharmacy receives each month. This is an experience I have been dealing with for the past year. This month my pharmacy only had 25 pills, and I had to wait 3 weeks for a refill because they had not received a shipment. Pharmacies are NOT making these rules. Get to know your pharmacist, they may be able to help you through this crisis. Don’t take your anger out on the Pharmacy. Until the DEA backs off this problem will continue.

Here’s one of the challenges I face. One medication is what I call my anchor medication. This past month it took 3 weeks to get my medication in stock. In those 3 weeks without the medication is no longer in your system. After going three weeks without the medication my body has to start over. So far I have not been able to see if it works because I can’t take the medication long enough to work.

My new Psychiatrist is cutting my Xanax to 3 per day, not the 4 per day that I have been taking for so long. The bottom line is I’m in withdrawal as my body adjusts to only 3 a day. You stack that on top of the problems with refills, it’s frustrating. This means my anxiety is higher during certain hours when I don’t take my Xanax. It’s a very addictive medication and is one of the worst withdrawals I’ve been through.

It’s important to have someone that you can reach out to if you need help. 

This happened two evenings ago due to my anxiety being very high. To better communicate you can say certain words to help them understand where you at and when you are falling into depression or higher than a kite. 

Yesterday

I was so truly happy and I haven’t been happy in so long, I was soaking in every moment because my mood could change. Feeling joy in my heart felt so good and I didn’t want it to end.

My husband said I was jacked up and I said I know. The key word here is I KNOW. For me, that means I know and am keeping tabs on your mood. if it’s a problem after that I’ll let you know. 

I got so angry and raised my voice, which I rarely do. I don’t remember the exact words in the conversation but I was so angry at him for ruining my day and told him not to talk to me. I would not tell someone they took my joy away in the manner that I did to my husband. In fact, I would never say that. My anger was mounting.

I went upstairs to get ready for bed and when he came into the room I continued the conversation in a combative way. I was jacked and angry, raising my voice much higher, and even pointing my finger at him. I could not believe what was coming out of my mouth, and my behavior. In the last 22 years, we’ve had a handful of fights.

I started with an apology and a hug. Now I’m back to my normal low-grade depression self. 

We have established words to use when my mood changes and is concerning. When he tells me I’m jacked up, the keyword is I KNOW which means I’m keeping an eye on it. When I’m feeling suicidal I let him know. This is how we communicate about my Bipolar Disorder when he observes a change in behavior. 

If you are newly diagnosed, be patient. When you start the journey it can be rough and frustrating. 

Don’t obsess over your new diagnosis, learn the basics of your illness and symptoms for now. The most important thing I can say is to only read about your illness or symptoms of Bipolar Disorder from trustworthy websites. When you read anything else you risk getting the wrong information. It’s critical to read a respected source. Right now is not the time to read the wrong information. On my website, there is pull down called Organizations That Can Help. There you can find resources under Mental Illness. In the beginning, you may feel overloaded, remember this is a long journey.

Know The Basic Side Effects and Symptoms. 

Before you take any medication, make sure you ask the doctor about the side effects and symptoms that are most common. If they don’t share that information, go to the drug manufacturer’s website and look for Prescribing Information. The most important sections are about side effects and symptoms.

You want to know! 

Any warnings, usually at the beginning of the page.

Common Side Effects

More serious side Effects

When to call your doctor or go to the hospital 

The happiness is gone but today I had a doctor’s appointment and my mood lifted talking to other people. 

This is the longest post I’ve written, hope you read the entire post.  

Melinda

https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/bipolar-disorder

From Alcoholic To Freedom
Advocacy · Alcohol · Celebrate Life · Health and Wellbeing · Healthy Living · Men & Womens Health · Moving Forward · Survivor

From Alcoholic To Freedom

Looking for the Light7 Comments

I’m a recovering Alcoholic and stopped drinking about 15 years ago. Everyone is different in their recovery. I went cold turkey because of my Mental Illness. My Psychiatrist at the time knew I drank, and we talked about it. During a very difficult time, I asked my doctor if stopping drinking would help my meds, and he said yes. I need to have all of my medications to work as well as possible.

I started drinking at 9 years old, lived in domestic abuse, and child abuse and my step-father was a mean drunk. He beat my mother often and she would in turn beat me.

My father was also an alcoholic so my growing up was chaotic.

Alcohol made me act differently, especially at events for work. All memories are in the past and rarely think of the spectacle I made.

Today is the perfect day to stop drinking or at least go to one AA meeting to see if they can give you support. I hear great things about AA making people whole.

Melinda

Has Your Shower Curtin Ever Given You A Concussion?
Advocacy · Celebrate Life · Disability · Education · Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Survivor

Has Your Shower Curtin Ever Given You A Concussion?

Looking for the Light9 Comments

It happened roughly 2 weeks ago. Please note that I have several chronic illnesses and balance issues. Taking a shower is always a risk. I’m careful and stopped using my chair last year. Big mistake! I do have a safety handle on the tub and it hurt so bad falling on top of it.

While grabbing for the shampoo the shower rod fell and hit me in the back of my head and threw me on top of the safety handle then pushed and pinned me in the corner with the water still running.

Photo by Emre Can Acer on Pexels.com

I managed to get the rod off of me and tried to get up. It took many tries to pull myself out of the tub. I didn’t have the strength to push and pull myself out of the bathtub. I was in the bathroom upstairs and he was downstairs in his office. I yelled for my husband several times but he could not hear me.

The back of my head was hit hard and now I have a concussion. My jaw hurts, my neck hurts, my ears clogged up, and have some of the biggest bruises I’ve seen. I have had several concussions over the years, like when I fell down the stairs and broke my wrist.

I’m at the point where there’s nothing to do but wait, someone mentioned 3-4 months to heal. That is news to me. I can’t image living this way for 3-4 months.

I’ve since purchased a full-size tub mat and a suction safety bar. I’m still nervous but you have to go forward. The reason I decided to get a suction cup bar vs. a permanent one is that we are moving soon and the new owners may not want it and taking it off the wall will leave a hole in the tiles

I’m looking for a portable alert that is really loud, might try my clip-on alarm for cycling. I may get several and hang in a few places because you never know where you’re going to land.

Be safe! 🙂

Melinda

Where Were You On 9/11?
America · Crazy? · Freedom of Speech · Healthy Living · Men & Womens Health · Moving Forward · Survivor · Today in History

Where Were You On 9/11?

Looking for the Light3 Comments

You can not mention 9/11 without thinking of the firefighters who went into the building knowing the situation and went anyway. All of those who died helping another to live is a HERO! All who survived and helped someone in need is a HERO.

I have difficulty wrapping my head around the damage and how the terrorists stayed under the radar. We may have survived but Muslim rage started after the attack and many innocent people were mistreated. Let this be a lesson for us to learn.

I had my luggage at the door, ready to catch a flight to Russia. My gramps called and said a plane flew into the tower, I didn’t have the television on but assured him it was okay. I’m thinking of a small plane, not the attack New York received.

On the way to the airport, more information is coming through but not the magnitude of the attacks. When we arrive at the airport it’s closed like all the other airports across America. I think the airspace was closed for 10 days, after the airports opened I rescheduled my dream trip to Russia.

Our country was forever changed, and the far-reaching effects are endless. New Yorkers came together like never before and the world watched to see what happened next. 

I will always have a hole in my heart that time won’t heal. 

Melinda

Have A Chronic Illness? Take Control By Shaving Your Head
Caregiver · Celebrate Life · Lyme · Lyme Literate Doctor · Men & Womens Health · Mental Illness · Moving Forward · Survivor

Have A Chronic Illness? Take Control By Shaving Your Head

Looking for the Light9 Comments

*This post is from 2017 and I’ve updated it to capture the years between 2017 and 2023.

There are times when Chronic Illness can get the better of you. I had such a week resulting in shaving my hair off. I’m no GI Jane but do have a nice head minus the scars from brain surgery.

For the past 13 years, I’ve been a caregiver to my grandparents and spent time in Psychic Hospital twice for ECT. Finding an answer to my heart problem took three years, two cardiologists, and a trip to Mayo Clinic I had a diagnosis in four days.

The search for ?? (Lyme Diseases) started in 2012 and the diagnosis in 2014. It took two attempts to find a competent doctor and tons of frustration. I’m not driving, my cognitive ability like balance and memory were taken by Lyme.

Last week I discovered a total knee replacement is required and scheduled for 11/14/17. All the falls from Lyme blew out my right knee.

Wild Crazy Hair

I’m not one to have a pity party but the weight on my shoulders became too much. I gave my husband many reason’s why I shaved my head, the truth is CONTROL. I have four chronic illnesses and have to manage my health every day and every day can be different. There are many days I don’t have the strength to bathe, one those days I use medical grade body wipes.

I’m 54, my mental illness is close to balanced, was looking forward to driving after several years, and most importantly I want to know who I am.

Shaving my head was liberating, a part of the new me came out. I can control some things and have to roll with the punches on others.

Can you imagine coming home from work to find your partner has shaved their head? My husband wasn’t surprised.

Melinda